


did you know that frogs don't have ribs or diaphragms

by yunsohno



Category: Fruits Basket
Genre: Anal Sex, Breathplay, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, literally i have nothing else to tag this as it is what it is, me remembering that nothing rlly happens in this fic lmaoooo, they fuck and then they talk about frogs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-26
Updated: 2019-09-26
Packaged: 2020-10-28 10:24:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20777024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yunsohno/pseuds/yunsohno
Summary: Yuki was thinking about this, and too many other unimportant things, until the hand over him twisted and shifted, just so, to close off one of his nostrils. The warning made his stomach lurch, and in some happy panic, he took a last, long, whimpering breath through his nose before Kakeru shut it completely.He was reminded, rather quickly as a tightness built in his chest, that aside from the petty game he played with himself, there was also this more frightening game he played with Kakeru.That little air oftrust methat was spoken with a perk of his brows and eyes that became searching and cautious beneath the hormonal haze. That little look of questioning that Yuki wasn’t sure was because he was worried or, if, like him, he wondered if their little choking games they played back in high school had, in fact, spiraled to this moment.It made his toes curl.--Yuki and Kakeru have sex. And then they talk about frogs.





	did you know that frogs don't have ribs or diaphragms

He couldn’t think straight when Kakeru’s hand left his face, but if he could, Yuki might have thought about the word _ euphoria_. Or maybe _ ecstasy, _ or _ exhilaration,_ or some other ‘e’ word that could wrap up the spark in his body and cradle it in a few syllables. To give the moment a definition and make it make sense in human words, rather than let it die in an incoherent shroud of peaking hormones as it often did.

Instead, he could only think of the word _ fuck. _ And he could only think of it because the word left him so easy and unprompted that it seemed as simple as taking in air, or putting one foot in front of the other. Like it were waiting just behind his teeth, an innocuous poppy seed wedged against his canine.

_ “Fuck.” _

He gasped. Tilting his head back, he could feel his spine peel up from the mattress, arching as his ribs expanded and contracted, his lungs swallowing deep and greedy. He could feel himself clenching tight, bordering on painful before the intensity slowly mellowed again. 

Kakeru had stilled inside him. As edges of his vision returned to normal, Yuki lowered his back to let it sink into the bed again. He tilted his head forward, meeting his eyes, and felt his wayward panting as it hit his cheeks.

Words came to neither of them. Before they could stay too still for too long, Yuki shifted against him, urging him to continue. He stared him down in the half-dark as he did, and as Kakeru gave a shallow rut, that dizzied feeling panged up his spine again. The ache between his legs was becoming something terrible. 

Kakeru returned to pace, and Yuki’s legs again tensed around his middle. Pressing his head back, screwing his eyes shut, he found purchase with his hands against Kakeru’s forearms, taut as they held him up over Yuki. Like a predator, he thought, or maybe more like an awning. 

_ A sexy awning. _

He was glad that Kakeru was quick to fuck that stupid thought right out of him. 

Soon, he could feel it building in him, that almost-there feeling that made him throb hard and inconsistent, and he knew he wanted it again. With a squeeze to Kakeru’s forearm, he breathed, 

“Do it again.”

“You sure?” The response tumbled out of Kakeru in a rush of air. He stilled again when Yuki nodded terse against the sheets, and as he shifted his weight again to his left hand, Yuki took the moment to really feel him. That pleasing, strange fullness. 

He clenched, hard, and Kakeru hissed. 

“_Jesus. _ You’re gonna make me come doing that, dude.”

“Isn’t that the point?”

“Well, shit, I thought we might be able to do it together for once.”

Kakeru fingers skimmed over his lips, and a tingle shot down his arms. He managed to mutter “How romantic” before Kakeru closed his palm loose over his mouth.

Though he was still able to breathe, his exhales shallowed minutely. He felt the heat of his breath hit Kakeru’s palm and bounce back to him, rolling over his lips and cheek, filling the hollow of where his hand hadn’t pressed down fully. The edge of Kakeru’s pinky pressed against his nostrils – not enough to block him, but enough to make some of the air whistle light as he panted.

His stomach coiled hot. Kakeru caught his eye again, and, with a shift, he pulled out some. As he pressed back in, slow and tantalizing (_ what an asshole, _ Yuki thought, as he rolled his hips to meet him and let a moan leave his chest), some of his weight went into the hand over Yuki’s mouth, and the hollow closed. 

Yuki, left to breathe only partially through his nose, felt his breathing grow heavy. 

It was fun, he thought, to play god with his lungs like this. 

Maybe stupid and petty, and probably absolutely bizarre, but it gave him a little twinge of something that felt like victory nonetheless. To be able to say _fuck you_ to the thing that robbed him – or, to be able to say _fuck you_ to at least part of what robbed him, because he couldn’t really say _fuck you _to what had really robbed him, not anymore, not to her face, or to wherever that god and all of its cronies went (but he would be damned to think of all _that_ right now, while he was being not only softly strangled but thoroughly fucked) – to take control of his own lungs again felt good. To test whether the strain would suddenly kick the bronchitis back in him again, as though to see if the mouse was gone or just dormant after all, was almost like a game at this point.

Kakeru made a difficult noise as he upped his pace. Under his hand, Yuki could feel his arm shaking. 

Staring up at him, finding his dark brows furrowed and eyes edging on a soft and hazy kind of deliriousness, Yuki began to think instead of how noisy Kakeru got when _ he _ was the one on the receiving end of things. How he was all breathy moans and serious looks when he was towering over him, yet so quickly reduced to a handsy, throaty mess when he relinquished control. How Yuki couldn’t decide if it was annoying or hot, and, in settling on some weird middle-ground of both, would often end up shoving his fingers into his mouth to at least quiet him somewhat. Something something, oral fixations, something something, Freud. 

Yuki was thinking about this, and too many other unimportant things, until the hand over him twisted and shifted, just so, to close off one of his nostrils. The warning made his stomach lurch, and in some happy panic, he took a last, long, whimpering breath through his nose before Kakeru shut it completely. 

He was reminded, rather quickly as a tightness built in his chest, that aside from the petty game he played with himself, there was also this more frightening game he played with Kakeru. 

That little air of _ trust me _ that was spoken with a perk of his brows and eyes that became searching and cautious beneath the hormonal haze. That little look of questioning that Yuki wasn’t sure was because he was worried or, if, like him, he wondered if their little choking games they played back in high school had, in fact, spiraled to this moment.

It made his toes curl. He gripped his forearm tighter. Kakeru kept his weight on his hand, and as Yuki closed his eyes, feeling the acute need to swallow, Kakeru’s pace became fast and shallow, rough as he barely staved off his end.

The ache of wanting to finish made his thighs feel tight, and drawing up to his stomach, his chest, his throat, that tightness persevered as the seconds passed and his lungs struggled to deflate in an exhale. He felt full, in his ribs, in his groin, in his ass, and the feeling varied from pleasurable to cramped to warring. 

His lungs warred. He let them, gripping Kakeru’s arm as he opened his eyes to catch his stare. His eyelids fluttered, and he felt the vague lightness start to creep on him. Kakeru drew his eyes down and pinched them shut with a groan.

“Yuki…” 

The overwhelm returned, this time in full force as the struggle wound tight with the sensation. Hearing his name spoken in that voice made him shiver and all too aware of how he was unable to respond. He became intensely aware of all of the aches and sweetnesses lighting up his nerves and synapses at once, all in a single moment, he felt it all become too much.

With a few hurried slaps to his arm, Yuki signaled Kakeru to let go. When his hand left him, he gasped loud and long; he felt a stinging relief as air rushed out and then back into him, and his shoulders drew tight as he arched. He felt the heady throbs of Kakeru finishing inside of him, and felt himself finally come, tight and pulsing and strong. The intimate feeling of closing tight around Kakeru, a dance of his body trying to push him out and pull him in, ruined only slightly by the less than desired feeling of his own semen shooting against and pooling onto his stomach.

Kakeru, with both hands against the bed again, leaned down to bury a final, quieted moan against Yuki’s neck. Yuki lowered again as he felt the orgasm wear off, and reaching down, he gave himself a few short tugs to ease what remained out. Yuki felt the tremble of Kakeru’s arm ease, and he rubbed a thumb against it slow as they both came down from their respective highs.

They stayed like that for a short time. Yuki regaining his breath, Kakeru breathing easy against his jaw as he came back to himself. When Kakeru began to soften inside him, he eased out, and Yuki grunted as his muscles agreed and pushed him away. He spasmed shortly around the emptiness, before settling into the little ache that was left behind.

Kakeru pressed a kiss beneath his ear before rising and reaching out for the tissues on his bedside table. Yuki eyed him as he first covered himself, then reached his hand out in a silent plea. Kakeru held the box out to him.

They cleaned up. Yuki laughed a little when Kakeru made a face peeling the condom off of himself.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“No,” Kakeru mumbled. He wound the open end around a finger and tied it. “You nearly made my dick fall off.”

“Ah.”

“Also, I hate touching these things.” He slid his fingertips together, scrunching his nose at the way they glided. “Bleh. They remind me of frogs.”

“Are frogs that slimy?”

Kakeru looked at him, brows raised. He blindly wrapped the offending item in a couple of tissues, staring at him as he tossed it to the bin beside him. He missed. 

“What?” Yuki asked. 

“Have you really never caught frogs before?”

Now Yuki scrunched his nose. “No? Why would I want to catch frogs?”

“Like, you know.” Kakeru shrugged, breaking the stare as he reached down to tug his boxers and sweatpants up over his legs. Yuki searched the floor for his clothes with his eyes. “Did you ever just go outside as a kid on a rainy day and just get like, overcome with the boyish desire to stomp around in the mud and catch frogs and worms and stuff? You know, go adventuring, see what the world was all about?” 

Yuki toed his own boxers. Though he leaned down to slip his feet through the holes, he looked up at Kakeru, grabbing his attention with a silent stare.

Kakeru stared back down at him. It took a moment but, struck, his eyes softened, and he chided himself lightly by hitting his palm against the side of his head.

“Ah, right, doy.”

“‘Doy’ is right.” Yuki stood, pulling his boxers over himself, sighing a little as he stood before Kakeru. “Is that really a thing, though? Going out to catch frogs?”

“Well, I dunno if it’s a ‘thing,’” Kakeru said with a shrug. “I just know I did it when my mom let me play.”

“Maybe it’s just a ‘you’ thing, then.”

“Hm, maybe.”

Yuki huffed a small laugh through his nose. Side-stepping away from him, he said,

“I mean, maybe I understand. I mostly just listened to them, anyway.”

“Huh?”

“The frogs.” He reached the door and, sensing that Kakeru wasn’t following, he stopped and looked back at him. “There were a lot of gardens where I lived as a kid. I guess they liked to hide in the bushes when it rained. I wondered about them.”

He remembered – in the rooms he most often frequented at the estate, the windows had all been lined with hydrangea bushes. He would peer out at them sometimes, when the flowers were in bloom, and watch the rain make the leaves heavy and dark. 

Kakeru followed, stepping closer with a more thoughtful “huh.”

“You know what’s kind of dumb, though?” Yuki asked. When Kakeru looked at him, he said, “For a long time, I didn’t even know they were frogs. When I was really little, I thought there were ghosts in the gardens.”

Kakeru raised a brow. Then, he sputtered a little laugh. Yuki elbowed him in the ribs. 

_ “Hey.” _

“Aw, c’mon! That’s not _ that _ dumb,” Kakeru said, reaching up to rub at the sore spot, “but it _ is _ kind of funny. And cute.”

“Hush. It’s better than going out to _ catch _ them. Seriously, they’re weird.” Yuki stepped further into the hall, seeking out the bathroom to clean up. “And wouldn’t they be all squirmy?”

“That was part of the fun! You have to sneak up on them, too. It's really a game of stealth, you know – it's why I'm so good at being cool and undercover.”

Yuki gave an unimpressed hum. “Cool and undercover,” he repeated. “Right.”

“Listen,” Kakeru said, and he caught his elbow to still him. “Don’t knock it until you try it. Next time we get a storm, afterwards we should go out frog-hunting.” 

Yuki made a face when he looked at him. “Really?”

“Yeah! It’ll be like a date. We’ll go to the park and everything. They probably swarm it.”

Yuki thought on it. He searched Kakeru’s expression for any chance that he would let up, but something seemed to awaken in him at the idea, something that made his eyes spark with a certain excitement. Try as he did to decline, he relented with a sigh. 

If Kakeru hadn’t looked absolutely boyish in that moment, he would have said no.

“Fine,” he said. He moved into the bathroom, scrubbing his fingers through his hair as he sighed, “Teach me your ways, oh wise frog-catcher.”

Kakeru made some happy noise behind him, and Yuki found himself drawn even more to the idea. As he reached to turn on the water for the shower, Kakeru stepped behind him, planting a kiss on his shoulder. 

“It’ll be fun, I promise,” he said. He skimmed his fingers idly over Yuki’s sides as he spoke, making goosebumps rise on his skin. “And if you hate it, you can just listen to them instead while I run around and find the good ones. You know, kind of relive the nicer moments of our kind of crappy childhoods, make nicer memories, all that sentimental jazz.” 

Yuki smiled lightly. He caught one of Kakeru’s hands, squeezing his fingers before pressing them flush against his side, sliding his hand over his to secure it there. He listened to the water hit the shower floor. He thought vaguely of the hydrangea bushes, and the odd noises that he would hear from them, but never thought to investigate.

Maybe, just perhaps, it wouldn't be so terrible to try looking for frogs.

“Fine,” he said again, more gentle this time. “It’s a date.”

**Author's Note:**

> sometimes reality is having post-sex conversations about how much you love each other. sometimes the conversations are about frogs. and sometimes it's both.
> 
> main ao3 @ [a-bigail](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacepuck/pseuds/a-bigail)
> 
> hmu @ yunsoh.tumblr.com


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